What Happens In Vegas
by Somepatriot
Summary: Alfred was a simple carpenter. But then he was fired. Arthur was ready to start his life with his new fiance. But then he got dumped. The two strangers meet in Vegas. And, frankly, they didn't stay there. USxUK implied Franada Human AU
1. Alfred Gets Fired

**Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, I do not in fact, own Hetalia.**

**Pairings: USUK and slight hints at Franada.**

**Warnings: There will be drinking, perversion, hints at sex, and a lot of sap and stupid jokes.**

Alfred had always loved working as a carpenter. He was never good with things like literature or grammar, but numbers? Can do.

Unfortunately, there is a difference between can and will. Alfred was twenty-one years old and in his prime. Why should he waste his no doubt heroic life behind a saw when he could be sitting in front of the TV and watching a game?

His boss, however, did not agree.

Before, Al had no problems. I mean, with his boss being his dad and all. But then one day...

Alfred smiled as he brought out the huge old boombox. He motioned for a few of the guys to gather around as he tuned into the big game.

They gathered around the radio in anticipation, cheering and booing in all the right places. Their saws and rulers were forgotten.

Alfred could feel the heat of the game building up inside of him. Even though he was only listening, he could still see the players as they kicked, oh! A tackle to number fifty three...no wait, he okay folks! New play...they're setting the ball. Oh! Fourteen has got it and he's off, running, running. No one can stop him now! It looks like he's gonna make it folks! And-! And-! Touchdown! The crowd goes wild!

Alfred screamed and hollered with his fellow employees and the crowd on the radio. He whooped and high-fived all of those around him with a much-too-large smile on his face, every so often giving a victory cry.

"Ahem," The small cough broke apart the celebration like a Russian breaks bones. Alfred's fellow employees abandoned him in favor of their posts.

"Al." A stern voice said.

The twenty-one year old suddenly felt fifteen again as he reached up and switched the radio off.

"Hey, Dad..."

Mr. Jones crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Al," he repeated, "We have been over this many times before. This is _real life, _son. You can't waste it away drinking beer and watching football. I've stood by a lot of times but this is the last one. I didn't want to do this, but son, you're fired."

Alfred blanched. No. He only had like—seven, maybe fifteen warnings! This wasn't fair at all!

"No, Dad! Please!"

"I'm sorry, Al. But it's just business." Mr. Jones told his son as he began to walk away.

Alfred followed him, his brow furrowing greatly. As much as he slacked off, he really did like his job. Hell, he loved his job.

"Dad! Wait."

Alfred's father turned to face him, looking none too pleased.

Alfred reached under a cabinet and pulled out a worn basketball that he sometimes played with the boys on lunch breaks. "Let's have a game," Alfred said. "If I win, I keep my job. If I loose, then I'll never ask you for money again."

Alfred's father looked at the ball.

"Basketball? That's not exactly your sport."

"Scared, old man?"

Somehow Alfred found himself on a cracking court behind the warehouse. The net wasn't really a net at all, just a rusty old ring. Alfred's white T-shirt was soaked with sweat already, the hot summer air had reached Philly a little early this year.

The score was nine to nine.

Alfred was tired.

His old man really had it out for him. He wasn't exactly in his prime anymore, but basketball was his _game. _He moved about the court with ease, ducking around Alfred and weaving through spaces to make shots. Alfred, on the other hand, was at little advantage with his clumsy limbs that always seemed to tangle around themselves and dammit, why weren't his legs moving fast enough?

Alfred watched in horror as he failed to block his father's shot. The ball flew past his hand and unmistakably into the 'net'.

"Yes!" His father shouted, taking a victory lap around the graying court.

"No!" Alfred moaned, trying not to fall to his knees.

Mr. Jones came up beside Alfred, clapping him on the back. "It was a fair game, son. But it's life. I know you can work things out."

Two weeks later, Alfred had certainly not worked anything out. "Mattie!" He whined into the phone. "Do you know how _hard _it is to get a job?"

Matthew sighed on the other end of the line. "Al, I know. You're lazy."

"I am not!"

"Let me guess. Right now you're on the couch, eating pizza, and watching a game."

"No! It's take-out..."

Matthew sighed again. (He'd been doing that often lately, it seemed.)

"You know what, Al? I have the perfect cure for laziness."

Alfred put down his ramen noodles at this statement. "Oh?"

"Complete and utter procrastination. They say what comes around goes around, right? So if we do something crazy it'll be sure to bite you in the ass and cure you."

Alfred sat up straight, smiling. "Mattie, you don't make any sense. But if you mean what I think you mean then I'm in."

On the other side of the line, Matthew was smiling. They both knew what this meant.

"Vegas!"

**Hello everyone! This is my new story! I finished an old Prucan, so I decided to write this baby! This was based off a movie called "What happens in Vegas." **

**Now, I'm not really one for chick flics, but this particular movie was so funny I didn't care. If you haven't seen it, watch it. If you have, don't spoil it for the rest of us ;)**

**The story will more or less follow the plot of the movie, with a few changes considering the fact the characters will be gay and blah blah. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	2. Arthur attemps to drown in IceCream

Arthur still wasn't over her. He had loved her. Loved her too much.

But it was over, and it had been for two weeks. Now all he wanted to do was drown in Ben & Jerry's ice-cream and cry at stupid romantic tragedies. And he would have done that, too, if that stupid Frenchman hadn't gotten in the way.

"Mon cher, this is no way to handle things!" Francis said, sitting by Arthur on the couch.

"Oh shut up, you frog!" Arthur sobbed. "Everything is so easy for you! Living the high life in New York while I'm scrambling for money in the backstreets of Philly!"

"Arthur, mon cher. You love your job." Francis reminded him, rolling his eyes.

The Englishman would hear none of it. "I'm just a bloody journalist in bloody Philly and I hate this city and I hate this apartment and I really _really _hate you!"

Francis leaned back against the cushions and twirled around his hair absently. "All this over a woman. Really, mon cher. I thought you had more class."

Arthur sniffed and dug into his somewhat exotically tea-flavored ice-cream. "I loved her. I was going to propose."

"Alright, you romantic sap. You're too sober for a talk like this." Francis said, dusting off his pants as he stood up.

Arthur agreed.

They both wound up in some old fashioned pub downtown, Arthur now giddy from the alcohol.

"Mon cher!" Francis announced. "I have the perfect plan! Let's go to Vegas!"

Arthur pondered this for a moment, and through the haze of liquor, he found himself raising his glass and shouting: "Vegas!"

"Vegas!" Francis shouted back.

"VEGAS!" the whole bar roared. Shots were provided, dances were danced, and by the end of the night both blondes had plane tickets to the world's most popular gambling destination.

**This is Artie's little background story before we get to the big stuff. Expect multiple updates in one day, you guys. This story is just so much fun to write. **


	3. Where nothing really happens

Alfred had always liked parties. The flashing lights, dancing, food...

And Vegas? Vegas was _the _party. The first thing Alfred thought when he stepped out of the run-down cab was that _this place is fucking awesome._

He glanced at his brother, who was trying not to hyperventilate. "Mattie," Alfred said, "Let's hit the city!"

Matthew agreed, and they both ran into the nearest casino.

Alfred had no idea what time it was, or where that hundred dollar bill went (surely he hadn't gambled it all away _that _fast, right?) but when he walked outside with his brother, it was dark. It looked like it had been dark for a long time now, too.

"Where's our hotel?" Alfred asked, feeling the few beers he had slugging his legs.

"'round here somewhere, eh?" Mattie answered. After a few minutes of searching, they found it.

It was ridiculously tall (But then again, everything was tall in this city) and the florescent lights along it's side were too bright for their alcohol-infested eyes to read.

"It has to be it," Matthew said. He looked around, and then spotted an employee. "Excuse me, miss," he said, tapping the girl's shoulder. "Is this the _Hetalia Hotel & Casino_?"

The woman in the skimpy outfit smiled a no-doubt practiced smile. "It most certainly is. Can I assist you?"

"Yeah," Alfred interjected. "We have a room here. Will you show us it?" Alfred didn't know who the girl was, but she was pretty hot. He would never take advantage of her, but if she was going to offer...

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Please, ma'am?"

The girl smiled. "Certainly," she said.

With no further ado, the boys were showed to the elevator.

"Our bags are waiting for us, right?" Alfred asked.

"They should be," The woman shrugged.

The elevator doors opened with a faint _ding _and the woman led them down the hallway. Everything looked too bright, but Alfred was still clutching a beer bottle and he was still smiling. Life just seemed awesome right now. Matthew, on the other hand, was wearing a pink boa he picked up from a random bar, and was swaying slightly. Alfred chuckled at the sight.

"Here we are, boys. Your bags are probably still downstairs. We'll send them up as soon as possible," the woman said, handing the two boys a key card.

Alfred tipped an invisible hat to her and opened the door with a flourish, saying that "this weekend is gonna be awesome, bro. I can't wait."

Matthew rolled his eyes and walked into the room. It was spacious and high-class, with a small kitchenette and and two bedrooms. Matthew assumed one the bathrooms were connected to the bedrooms.

"I'm gonna go pee," he told his brother.

Alfred was rooting through the fridge. "Kay," he answered, pushing aside the wine.

**The characters might be a _little _out of character here and there, but I'm going to try to keep it as close as I can. Alfred is going to be a little more pervy then usual, and Matthew is going to be a little more...loquacious. But let's blame that on the alcohol.**

**There'll be another chapter today, maybe two.**

**See ya soon.**

**-Mallory**


	4. In which Lamps are weapons

Arthur wasn't exactly happy about gallivanting across Las Vegas with the _bloody Frenchman_, but after a few shots nothing really mattered anymore.

So when the two blondes finally made it back to the hotel he didn't even worry about Francis' perverted tendencies, and hopped right in the shower to prepare for a crazy night out.

Francis was at the mirror, preening his eyebrows "Honestly, Arthur, why don't you just pluck your ey-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Francis sighed, and put down his tweezers. "Very well, mon cher. I'll be in the bedroom."

On a normal occasion, Arthur would have freaked out and maybe punched a few people, but this time he just said a quick "Right-o," before washing the suds out of his hair.

Francis walked out of the bathroom, and was met with a timid looking blonde. He was definitely over the age of eighteen, and he was in Francis' bedroom.

That's all the Frenchman needed to grasp the blonde's hand. "Bonjour, mignon," he said with a wink. "Est que-ce tu es alle-"

Matthew screamed and punched him in the face before he could continue. "What are you doing in my room, you creep?" Matthew screamed as he pushed Francis to the bed and began hitting him.

"Hey!" Francis shouted, trying to get the stranger off of him. "Hey! Dieu! Tu es un con!"

"I AM NOT!" Matthew screeched, elbowing Francis in the ribs.

"Wait, you speak French?"

Matthew slapped him.

Then, Arthur took this blissfully chaotic moment to storm into the room. "What the bloody hell is going on out here?" He yelled.

Upon seeing a strange man in his hotel room and on top of his friend, he took the reasonable approach, and grabbed the nearest table lamp, screaming "RAPIST!" (And for once he wasn't talking about Francis.)

Matthew screamed and jumped over the Frenchman and onto the bed, just as Alfred came in to find a very angry man with large eyebrows hitting his brother with a lamp.

Francis and Arthur exchanged glances. "Get them!" They screamed, and together they attacked.

Both of the American brothers shielded their faces as the crazy Europeans pulled them onto the bed and began hitting them.

"Ow! Ow! Calm! I said calm down!" Alfred shouted between blows. Arthur paused, and Francis took his cue.

"This is all just a huge misunderstanding!" Alfred said, "They must have just double-booked the room or something!"

Arthur and Francis exchanged glances, and then stood up again.

"Oh?"

Ten minutes later, the quartet was standing in the hotel's "CUSTOMER SERVICE" section, Alfred leaning over the counter to talk to a snood looking man with glasses and a mole. His name tag read "Rogdric".

"I see," he sneered. "I will book you a suite, how about that?"

Alfred grinned widely "Yeah! That sounds totally aw-"

"Terrible," Arthur butted in. "Your service was terrible, our bags still haven't arrived, and you caused us all very personal worries and trauma! We need much more than a suite to make up for this!"

Alfred gaped at the short blonde as the employee sighed. "There's really nothing I can do. I'm sorry sir bu-"

"But nothing!" Arthur yelled. "I know you casino's always have backstage tickets and hookups. How about you...compensate?"

Alfred watched in complete shock as the employee sighed, and relented four VIP passes, eight tickects to a concert, free limo services, and three hundred dollars in cash.

"Now will you leave me alone?" The snob asked.

Arthur took the offered tickets calmly, rifling through them. "Yes, I suppose this will do..." He said.

Then, he walked back towards the other two blondes. Francis was jubilantly flirting with Matthew, but Matthew kept repeating "Fuck off, fuckface."

"Dude!" Alfred said, throwing his arms out in a wild _I-can't-believe-this _gesture. "How did you do that? It's totally awesome!"

Arthur shrugged. "When I was younger I was a bit of a...fun guy."

Alfred looked over the man. When they first met, he thought he was a crazy killer. Then, after they had talked a bit, he thought he was a stuck up British man. Now? Now he was just fucking awesome.

"Well then," Arthur said, flaunting his tickets. "I believe we have a limo to catch, yes?"

Matthew and Francis smiled.

"Alright!"

**I fucking love this chapter. This is where the fun begins. Expect more awesomeness, funniness and soon to be hilarity! I can't wait for the next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews I've already gotten! You guys rock!**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	5. I Don't

If you have ever been to Vegas, then you understand the blurry, wild, there's-no-way-I'll-remember-this-tomorrow-so-the-hell-with-it feeling that completely takes over you.

At the moment, the quartet was completely submerged in that feeling. Arthur was screaming, smiling, oh—yes thank-you. I would like another pint.

He slid down the length of the bar table, everyone around him cheering. The lights were pumping but he could barely see. He slid off the edge of the table before he could realize it. The bar was silent. Alfred peeped over the table.

"VEGAS!" Arthur screamed, jumping up and throwing his arms out.

The entire bar raised their drinks and called back "VEGAS!"

Two hours later they were in another bar, their pockets substantially lighter after all the gambling (though Arthur was a hound at blackjack) and, yet again, they all held drinks in their hands.

Alfred and Arthur were on the dance floor, grinding. Life was fantastic. Everywhere around them were laughing, smiling people. "You're so cool, Arts." Alfred said, flashing a watery smile.

"You're so funny!" Arthur said back. Their words were slurred and kept running into one another, but no one cared.

"Hey!" Alfred tugged Arthur off of the stage and towards the bar. "Let's have a drink!"

Arthur giggled and asked the bartender for a bottle of champagne and a kitchen knife.

"I think you've had enough," the bartender told him.

"Please?" Arthur asked. "I'll show something really cool!"

The bartender sighed and relented, keeping a close eye on the sharp object. Arthur took the knife and put it to the top of the bottle, then, thrusting it upwards, only the very rim broke off cleanly, taking the cork with it.

Alfred cheered as the bubbling white foam spilled over the top. "Alright, Arts! I love you!"

"I love you too!" Arthur replied.

The bartender took back the champagne and started handing it out to the growing crowd.

Alfred pulled Arthur away and into a corner, where the two began to make out. They barely remembered who they were but...they didn't care. Whatever that other person was doing sure as hell felt fantastic so why _should _they care?

Once they were quite finished, they broke apart, smiling. "Let's go find Mattie and the French dude! I have a great idea!"

And with that, Alfred began to pull a giggling Arthur away. Once again.

Arthur's head was pounding. He had suffered through numerous hangovers in his time, especially during that punk phase, but nothing—_nothing-_compared to what he was dealing with now. The room was too bright, the air was too thick, and great holly roman empire did his mouth taste terrible.

The Englishman rolled over in an attempt to shield his delicate eyes from the glare of the window, but the only thing he accomplished was setting his head on fire and making something crinkle.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked down. The first thing he noticed is that he was naked. The second thing he noticed was a small, hastily written note.

It read:

_Arts,_

_I went to go get some breakfast! My head really hurts. I love you!_

_Love,_

_Your new hubby._

Arthur's grip on the paper tightened. No. No. No.

He unraveled his right hand from the bedsheets and glared at what he found perched on his finger. A thick, gold ring. It had two dice (snake eyes) emblazoned onto the band, and it looked like someone had won it from a crane machine. At this point, Arthur wouldn't have been surprised.

The blonde threw the covers off of him and ignored his head's protests. He stood up, but immediately winced.

It was clear to him that he had definitely been _busy _last night, if the pain in his ass was anything to guess by.

Arthur stumbled out of the bedroom, throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt a he walked. He threw open the doors and was met with a very ugly sight.

Francis was on the couch, his ass straight up in the air, and make-up done on only one eye. The only clothes he wore was a pink and leopard speedo and one giant hoop earring. Arthur hoped it was a clip on.

"Francis! You bloody frog! Wake the fuck up!" He screamed, shoving the Frenchman.

Francis fell off the couch with little grace, emitting the most ridiculous noise as he fell. He looked up at Arthur and snorted. "What?" Then, his eyes widened.

"Oh...merde."

"Oh shit indeed!" Arthur screeched. "I'm bloody _married! _Where were you when this was happening?"

Francis scrambled over himself in his haste to stand up. "Arthur, mon ami! Calm down. Let us just go down and find...what was his name again?"

"Alfred," Arthur supplied.

"Yes, let us find Alfred and his mignon brother and get this all straightened out! I'm sure the boy doesn't want to be married any more than you do."

**Hello, everyone!**

**Sorry for not posting but I was sleeping over at a friends house and I couldn't get around to it.**

**This is where the plot really starts moving, so get ready! **

***I'm not sure if gay marriage is legal in Vegas (I'm pretty sure it is. I mean, it's Vegas) but if it's not then just ignore that. **

**French:**

**Merde-Shit**

**Mignon- cute**

**mon ami- My friend**

**Okay! Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! You guys rock! **

**Sorry for any mistakes. I'm American.**

**-Mallory**


	6. Winning and Losing

Alfred had never been more confused. He was sitting with Matthew at a small table, eating a large amount of fatty breakfast foods. He needed comfort right now.

"I don't know what to do!" He told Matthew, shoving some pastry in his mouth. "I mean, Arfs sheems cool an' all, but I don' like 'im like dat!"

Matthew sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Al, maybe you could just thi-"

But whatever he was about to say was cut off by a very angry blonde man, throwing his hands down on the table and screaming: "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Alfred swallowed thickly, his eyes widening in fear and apprehension. "Oh...hey, Artie..."

"My name is Arthur!"

Alfred clamped his mouth shut and stared at the Frenchman behind Arthur, presumably for help. Francis answered Alfred's pleas by putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder and saying "Now, now. Let us be civil..."

"The hell with civil!" Arthur screamed. "I fucking married to this oaf!"

Alfred stood up. "Hey!" He protested, "It's not like I _want _to be married to you!"

"You think?" Arthur screeched. "The only thing I've ever been gotten out of meeting you was three hundred dollars and a night on the town!"

"A least you got something!"

Arthur snarled and walked over to a "Match Three!" crane that was located nearby. Alfred followed, screaming something about uptight Brits.

Arthur shoved a quarter in the slot and pulled the handle, watching the pictures begin to spin. "So much fun!" Arthur yelled sarcastically. "I sure as hell am glad I got _something _out of it!"

Alfred snarled. "My pleasure, _honeykins._"

"But of course, _boo boo bear!"_

The machine stopped and Arthur rooted through his pockets for another quarter. "God dammit!" He yelled when he came up empty handed.

"Here," Alfred thrust a quarter in his face. "Because I'm a loving husband!"

"Well, thanks muffincakes!"

Arthur turned back to Alfred, presumably to yell at him more, but behind him, lights started flashing and a siren started wailing. Alfred and Arthur whirled back to the machine.

"I...I won!" Arthur screamed, all arguments forgotten.

Alfred stared with his mouth agape as some people came from nowhere in particular. Cameras surrounded the scene and Arthur bounced up and down in joy when a pretty girl toted a over-sized check over to him.

Arthur took the check and smiled into a camera. He was about to say something when the check felt strangely heavier. Looking over his shoulder, Arthur spied Alfred on the other end, holding the corner as if it were _his._

"Let go of the check, Alfred," Arthur sneered through gritted teeth.

"It was my quarter." Alfred retorted.

"I pulled the handle!"

Thus a game of tug-of-war started, in which the check was used as a rope. Eventually the camera crew bored of trying to separate the spouses and went on to film some other big-win.

Matthew and Francis wandered over and immediately joined in. "It's Alfred's!" "No, It's clearly Arthur's!"

THE PAGE BREAKS HERE YAAAY!

"So let me get this straight," The judge said, peering over the grand table. "You," he pointed to Alfred "Say the money is yours because it's your quarter that was put into the machine, and you want a divorce and all the money."

Alfred affirmed this with a nod.

"And you," The judge pointed at Arthur "Say the money is yours because you pulled the handle and you want a divorce and the money."

Arthur nodded and replied with a quipped; "Yes sir."

The judge sighed and leaned back in his chair. He had long blonde hair that was kept very orderly, and striking blue eyes. The tag in front of him read only: "JUDGE GERMANIA"

"I've grown tired of all this marriage and divorce." The man said, rubbing at his temple. "I have been married for thirty long years and I know it is difficult, but there is no excuse for the way your generation is handling it!"

Alfred and Arthur both began the protest, but the Judge raised his hand. "I will have none of that! You two are both sentenced to a month in couples counseling. If by then you have not worked out your marriage problems, I will grant you a divorce. You must both attend the counseling every week at the appointed therapist. If one of you does not show you will be held in contempt. As for the money...I will hold on to that for the time being."

The judge sat up in his chair. "Oh, and one more thing. You are to move in together for the duration of counseling."The judge banged his gavel. "Court is adjourned."

Alfred stood up with his mouth hanging open. Matthew was beside him as his lawyer. "He can't do that!"

Alfred turned to Mattie. "Can he?"

Arthur walked up to Alfred, a smug look on his face. "Evidently so. It is going to be fun...working with you, Alfred."

And with that, Arthur strutted away, looking quite sinister.

"Oh shit," Alfred groaned, falling into the desk. "This isn't going to go well, is it?"

**Hello everyone.**

**I tried to update last night but it wouldn't let me due to 'renovations'. So sorry.**

**Hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading, sorry for mistakes.**

**-Mallory**


	7. Moving In

**Hello! If for some reason you missed chapter 6 be sure to go back and read it, or else you'll be really confused. **

Arthur and Francis stumbled up the stairs of the run-down apartment building. They were laden with boxes upon boxes of whatever they thought would push Alfred to his breaking point.

"You are really going through with this, mon ami?" Francis asked, breathing heavily.

"Of course I am! I won _one million dollars_. I want it."

Francis sighed. "What room was it?"

"4G."

But Francis needn't have asked, for the door labeled 4G swung open to reveal a smiling Alfred. "Artie, my honeybumpkin! You're home!"

Arthur stretched his face into an unnatural smile and imitated Ms. Umbridge from Harry Potter as he said "And good to be home, loveytrumples!"

Alfred took the cardboard box from Arthur, Matthew peeking out of the apartment behind him. "Let me get that for you, sugerbear!"

Arthur dug his fingernails into Alfred's hand when he took the box, but kept oozing sweetness as he replied, "Thanks, bunnylumps! You're so _strong _and _kind!"_

Matthew was practically chocking on the sarcasm, and moved to the side as the two newly-weds went into their home.

"Oh _mon cher~_" Francis called. "Wouldn't you like to help me with these boxes?"

"No way in hell."

Inside the apartment, Alfred and Arthur continued their lovey-dovey charade, both wanting to rip the others throat out. Arthur began extracting the items from the boxes, unloading unicorn upon unicorn and placing them in odd places all over the house.

Once he was done, he spread a flowery table cloth over the strange bar-like kitchen table, smoothing out the creases. He was setting up a quilted "HOME is where the HEART lies" picture when a voice dripping venom interrupted him. "Boobookins, what _is _all of this?"

Arthur turned around and found Alfred's eye twitching. He smiled outwardly.

_Arthur: 1_

_Alfred: 0_

"Oh, just to lighten up the place a bit."

Arthur moved into the bathroom and began placing strange things on the shelves (provided by Francis, of course.)

Arthur smiled when he heard Alfred wince and whisper "not the bathroom!"

Once Arthur was finally done antagonizing our American boy, he took a good look around the place. It was small, but that was expected. Arthur knew Alfred didn't have a job. There was a small kitchen that didn't have matching counter-tops and the bathroom directly off from that. The bathroom held only a sink and a toilet, with a very old bear-foot tub rusting in the corner.

There was no real color scheme or design, especially in what Arthur could only label as the 'living room'. It held one patchy plaid couch and a 1980's TV, complete with the antennas.

The first thing Arthur noticed is that the place was _filthy. _In his haste to torture his new spouse, he had not noticed the old gym clothes, pizza boxes, beer cans, and unidentifiable objects strewn about the room.

Arthur noted a pile of porn magazines by the TV, and for the first time Arthur wondered if Alfred was even gay.

But why should he care?

"Where's the bedroom?" He asked instead.

Alfred smiled, and bowed. "Right this way, ma'am," He said, causing Arthur to snarl.

He walked over to a wardrobe and pulled open the doors.

Arthur had to jump back when a large cot fell out, almost crushing him.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Alfred smirked.

Once night rolled around Francis and Matthew left (they had stayed for the show, but dinner had become dangerous for their well-being.)

Alfred and Arthur were left to face a very awkward situation alone.

After a whole day of fighting, there was no way either of them wanted to be within ten feet of the other, let alone sleep with them.

"Go ahead and take the couch." Alfred murmured, throwing a pillow and blanket at Arthur.

Arthur threw them right back. "No way in hell! You sleep on the couch! The bed is mine!"

Alfred shrugged and walked over to the old monster. "If you insist."

Arthur nodded, turning around. That had gone easier than he expected. He looked down at the bed, and saw why. It was covered in stains from who-knows-where, and there was random items strewn in the sheets. Arthur shuddered.

"It's not too late to switch, sugar." Alfred called from the couch, where he was snuggled comfortably.

"Dream on, you prick." Arthur growled.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was armed with Lysol and rubber gloves. He was slowly disinfecting the mattress, hoping he could at least sleep on a clean base.

Alfred was chuckling somewhere in the room.

"Shut the bloody fuck up."

**I hope my double update was enough to console you from my MIA last night. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and subscribed! **

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**[edit] I have been corrected on the name of the Harry Potter character. MY BRAIN LIES TO ME. LIESSSS.**

**-Mallory**


	8. In which Alfred Steals Doors

The score was currently

Alfred: 1

Arthur: 1

Arthur could not let his chances slip away. Alfred was still snoring on the couch (disgusting) which left Arthur to the apartment. His first plan was immediately put into action.

Alfred awoke to the sound of running water. He groaned and sat up, wondering if Mattie was up early for some reason. Then—it hit him. Matthew wasn't visiting anymore. Instead, he was left with his grumpy English _husband._

Well, shit.

Alfred stoop up and popped his back. Sleeping on the couch had done nothing for him, except maybe bring Arthur pain. And that was always a plus.

But, as he stood, Alfred noticed he had to pee. _RIGHT NOW._

"Arthur! Let me in!" He cried, pounding on the bathroom door.

Arthur's voice called back "Sorry, darling! But I'm not done!" Alfred groaned in frustration. He probably shouldn't have mentioned that 'Arthur was clearly the girl in the relationship' at dinner last night. Now the guy really had it out for him.

"Artie, man! I just gotta piss! _Now._"

Alfred heard the water shut off and sighed in relief, but not three seconds after yelled when he heard a hair dyer being turned on. _A hair dyer?_ What the actual fuck? "ARTHUR! I. NEED. TO. PISS."

"My, my! Such vulgarities so early in the morning!" Was Arthur's only reply.

Little did Alfred know, Arthur was not in fact blow drying his hair. He only stood in the bathroom, toweling dry and watching Francis' old what-ever-it-is blow droplets around in the sink. Arthur smirked, getting ready to tally up a point for himself.

That's when he heard it.

A loud clattering sound came from outside the bathroom, followed by a sigh. Arthur made haste to shut up the hair contraption and peek out the door, wrapping only a towel around his waist.

Alfred was peeing in the sink.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Alfred tutted at him, perched on a kitchen chair (having previously moved all the dirty dishes—that would have been gross) and smirked "my my," He said "Such vulgarities so early in the morning."

Alfred: 2

Arthur: 1

PAGEBREAKAGAINYAAAY

"Now," Arthur explained, finishing off a tea cup he had brought to the apartment. "I leave for work about this time every morning." He told Alfred. "Don't look for me, don't call me, and whatever you do, don't. Come. Near. Me."

Alfred waved at his new spouse over his shoulder, more interested in lying on the couch.

"And for gods sake, Jones," Arthur spat "Get off your lazy ass and get a job. You're pathetic." With that, Arthur left the apartment. Alfred watched his green sweater go, and sighed. It's not as if he hated Arthur, but the guy really wasn't helping him like him, either. Alfred knew he should get a job. He knew he needed money. But he didn't want to spend his life doing something he didn't like. Life was about living, not making a living, right? Alfred wasn't sure anymore.

"Mattie," Alfred said into the phone. "I don't know if I can do this whole Arthur thing...it's getting tough, man."

Alfred wasn't really calling about Arthur. He could still handle that ass. He could still win the fight. But he could never admit he was scared of the world.

"Don't quit on me now, Alfred!" Mattie protested. "What did he do?"

Alfred lied and told Matthew of what had happened this morning—leaving out his clever peeing revenge, of course.

Matthew snickered. "Actually, I have a pretty good solution to your problem. Do you have a screw driver?"

ANOTHERPAGEBREAKHORAAAY

Arthur loved his job. As much as he complained, being a journalist was his life dream. Finally, he had made it.

"Well, folks," Arthur's boss said at the meeting. "I have a fun offer for you all! A few weeks from now we'll be hosting a party. At this party we'll announce the recipient of...the plaque!"

The meeting room gasped. The plaque was just a little gold square hung up in the fax room, and whoever 'owned' it at the time put their picture and name on it. But it was rumored that every person who had made it on the plaque had moved on the the big times—literally. New York Times, to be exact. Arthur desperately wanted the plaque. He had always dreamed of having his own column, and being able to write about whatever he wanted to.

He _would _get that plaque, if it killed him or otherwise. This, though, sparked a rivalry between himself and a woman by the name of Elizabeta. Eliza was a pretty good writer, she could write the home-how-to's (cooking, cleaning) but was also fantastic with wars and history, and Arthur had respected that. _Had._

Now he was fighting over the fax machine on a regular basis, struggling to turn in his work before she did, and most of all, just trying to annoy her and stay on his boss' good side. Easier said than done.

Which is why, when Arthur finally returned home, he went straight to the bathroom to take a bubble bath. Now not only did he have to deal with Al at home, but also the crazy ass chick at work. Life is hell.

Arthur turned to close the door, but found it empty. The door was gone! Not even it's hinges remained.

"Where's the bloody door?" He screamed. Somewhere in the apartment, he heard a chuckle.

Alfred: 3

Arthur: 1

**Hello guys! Today we delved into actual emotion~ How exciting~**

**Arthur's desire for the plaque will return, but probably in later chapters. I hope you enjoyed! I might update later tonight, too.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	9. Where Arthur Throws Oranges

The next three days did nothing to lessen the stress on Alfred and Arthur's relationship. In fact, it worsened it. Between their random bickering, multiple occasions on sleeping in the hallway, early-morning wake-ups, and worst of all the stealing of tea/coffee, it was amazing they hadn't killed each other yet.

Yet the score still rode at a steady

Alfred: 3

Arthur: 1

Arthur wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, he had always been quite good at torturing people. Perhaps it was because he had to torture people at work, too, while that fatass sat on the couch all day. Or at least that's what Arthur supposed he did.

But today was the day he would once again rise, because today was the day of their first couples counseling appointment. And Alfred was still sleeping.

The judge had clearly said if one of them didn't show up it would be contempt. So with much glee Arthur prepared to leave as quietly as possible, only making a noise once he was outside the apartment building. He hailed a cab.

Back in the apartment, Alfred cracked open his eyes and looked around, smirking. He had not actually been asleep. You see, for the first time in years Alfred had awoken in the light before dawn to sneak over to Arthur's pants and take his wallet. No wallet—no cab money. No cab money—well, you won't be going anywhere.

Alfred took his damned time getting ready, but he didn't have much to do. He made it outside just as Arthur's cab was pulling away. Alfred had the best idea.

He took Arthur's wallet out of his back pocket and held it up right in the air, shouting; "Oh, Artie~!"

Inside the cab, Arthur deadpanned. How in the name o bloody hell did he get _that?_ The cab screeched to a halt, the creepy man with red eyes turning around. "That you wallet, kid? No money no ride. Get out."

Arthur's large eyebrows dipped in concern. "No, c'mon, I need to go!" He watched Alfred hop on a skateboard and start riding away, waving as he went past the cab.

Jerk.

The strange cabbie smirked. "Alright, but it's gonna cost you."

"I already said I don't have mone-"

"I don't want money." The cabbie smirked, eying Arthur's crotch.

Arthur followed his lone of sight. "Ugh! No!" He screamed.

"Oh, just a show! Then I'll take you wherever."

Alfred watched in disbelief as the cab sprung forward again, Arthur smirking at him (but looking somewhat disturbed. Huh.) as he passed.

Alfred picked up the speed, trying desperately to beat the cab.

He had lost sight of it for just a few seconds when he heard it. It was the sound of victory. Or, in his case, prime time traffic.

"Hey, hey!" Arthur screamed in the cab. "Why are you stopping? I showed you my dick and everything!"

The red-eyed man smiled. "Sorry, kid, but there's nothing I can do about traffic."

Arthur gave a huff and got out of the cab, ignoring the red eyed man's snickers. Arthur ran after Alfred, who was now ahead of him, riding in-between cars like he did it everyday. Perhaps he did.

"Alfred!" He screamed. "Alfred!"

The aforementioned American turned slightly to look at Arthur, who was already panting, as he took to the sidewalks for better transportation. Arthur almost looked cute, the way his eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks flushed.

_Almost._

He also looked downright pissed, and that was fucking scary.

Arthur was falling behind Al fast, and he looked around for something, _anything, _maybe a girl to push off of her scooter like they did in the movies. Instead, the only thing close by was a young Asian man selling oranges.

Arthur stopped and fumbled around in his pockets. He produced a five dollar bill. Degrading himself for not checking there earlier, Arthur handed the Asian the five dollars, breathing "How much can I get for this?"

The man began to say something but Arthur cut him off, grabbing a plastic bag from the side of the cart, eyes still following Alfred. "Just put them in!" He demanded.

The man obeyed, sensing the weight of the situation, and began stuffing oranges in the bag. Apparently he was too slow for Arthur, who growled and then took off after Alfred again, leaving a very confused person behind him.

Alfred looked over his shoulder just in time to be nailed in the face with an orange. "ARGH!" He cried out, nearly falling off the skate board.

Arthur ran after him, almost catching up. "You bloody wanker!" He cried, tossing an orange at him. Alfred ducked. "Don't steal my bloody wallet!" Another orange. This one hit Alfred directly in the gut.

Alfred was now wobbling off of his skateboard, and it only took one more orange to do him in, toppling over into the asphalt (much to the amusement of the surrounding people stuck in traffic.)

He quickly got up and chased the retreating pale figure, pushing him once he was close enough.

This triggered a shove-fest as they both ran towards the marriage counseling. Alfred attempted to scale the twenty foot brick wall, but Arthur shoved him off and muttered "don't be a git, wanker."

They both burst into the office of the marriage counselor, panting, covered in dirt and orange juice, and soaked with sweat.

The man looked up from his desk, staring in shock at the spouses. His name tag read "Roma."

His hair had multiple curls and he looked rather happy, despite his surprise. "Caio," he greeted, staring at the two oddly.

Alfred and Arthur smiled nervously.

Alfred: 3

Arthur: 2

**So many characters were introduced! The cabbie was Prussia, the man selling oranges was Japan, and the counselor was Grandpa Rome.**

**You'll never see Japan or Prussia again, sorry XD**

**Well...maybe Prussia.**

**Anyways! I hope you all liked this chapter! Their interview thing is next.**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	10. Hormones and Emotions and beer

After Alfred and Arthur had been told that "if you want me to say that you are working on your marriage, than you'll actually have to work on it," they really had been trying. But couples really made it look easy. Relationships are _hard._

So Arthur found himself talking to Francis one day. "I can't take it anymore!" He screamed. "It's all dirty socks, dirty underwear, the bed is disgusting, he eats like a pig, he cannot speak English for his life, and on top of it all he's a lazy fat arse!"

Francis sighed, and patted Arthur on the back. "Remember one million dollars, mon ami. Plus, I found something you might be interested in..."

Alfred was at the gym, lifting some weights while Matthew acted as his spotter. "I can't stand the guy, Mattie," Alfred was saying. "He's a neat freak and a grammar nazi, he never stops complaining...ugh!" Alfred threw down the weights.

Matthew just smirked.

"There was a court case," both Matthew and Francis explained to their respective friends. "Way back. This woman married a little Cuban guy who happened to run into a ton of money. When they wanted a divorce, the judge froze the money...sound familiar? What ended up happening, is the woman proved the Cuban had been unfaithful, and the judge ruled in her favor!"

Alfred gasped. "So,"

Arthur smirked. "All we need to do is prove he had been unfaithful..."

"...and then we'll get the cash!"

Time passed, and many things happened. (Things meaning fights, of course.)

But then The Night happened.

Alfred was at home, of course. Arthur must have been working late because he had not come home from work and it was already nine o' clock. Not that he was worried. No, that would be ridiculous.

Then, someone knocked on the door. Alfred jumped up to answer, certainly not hoping it was Arthur who had just lost the key.

Instead, when he pulled open the door, it was two girls, dressed provocatively, with big, hooded eyes and big breasts.

"Can I...help you?" Alfred asked.

One of the girls pursed her lips. "Ah...we got locked out of our apartment...can we wait here until the locksmith comes?"

Alfred deadpanned.

"And..." the other girl added, "some of our friends were supposed to come over. Can they wait here too?"

Alfred nodded dumbly. "Uh...yeah. Of course."

He led the girls in, but something felt wrong. The way they talked...or walked...it was just...wrong...

Another knock was heard before Alfred could even settle down again, and he went up to answer the door. Even more girls were standing outside in even less clothes. Alfred let them in.

Something was wrong. Usually he would be all for this random company, but it wasn't so exciting anymore.

Alfred excused himself and fled to the fire escape. "Mattie," he said into the phone. "There are a dozen hot girls in my apartment and...holy shit, there's a pillow fight breaking out."

Matthew's voice was strained from the other end of the line. "Shit, man! Arthur must have found out what we did! Stay out of there!"

"Wha...?" Alfred asked, watching the girls. "No! These things happen...!"

"No they do not! I'll be over there with back-up soon. Stay strong, bro."

Alfred whimpered.

True to his word, when Arthur arrived home, expecting to see some sort of unfaithfulness, he was only met with Matthew's army of nerdy guys.

They were everywhere. Using pokemon pick-up lines on the girls, sitting at the bar...

Arthur wanted to rip his hair out.

_Now _Alfred chooses to be intelligent?

"Francis," Alfred whispered into his phone. "Send some hot guys over here. Or girls. It doesn't matter. Just make sure they're barely wearing clothes."

"Ohonhon~ I'll be right over."

Unfortunately, as more people arrived, the more the party was pumping. Alfred was trying desperate not to look anyone in the eye, girls (and some guys) were clinging to him, as well as Arthur.

When the strippers showed up, Alfred abandoned ship.

Arthur found him when he tried to escape in the (now door-less—they were using a curtain) bathroom.

"Oh," Arthur said, turning away, "Sorry, terribly sorry."

That's when Alfred heard it. The difference. The problem with the girls. They didn't have an accent like Alfred had grown used to hearing—they didn't carry themselves the way Arthur did.

"Hey, wait," Alfred said, grabbing onto the bottom of Arthur's shirt. "It's fine. Want a beer?"

Arthur seemed to debate it, but finally decided for it and grabbed the offered drink. "Thanks," he said shortly, sitting on the (closed) toilet to face Alfred, who was sitting on the side of the tub.

"I just wanted to...y'know...get away for a bit." Alfred explained.

Arthur scoffed. "Oh yes, this must be _so _hard for poor, pitiful, Alfie." (A tingle definitely didn't run up Alfred's spine at the nickname.)

"Yeah? Well at least I'm not _so_ still in love with my ex!"

Low blow. Arthur gaped.

"That's right," Alfred continued. "I saw the ring the other day. You would have returned it if you were over her."

Arthur stood up, Alfred copying him. "You're a bloody fool!" Arthur shouted. "You probably haven't had one stable relationship in your entire life!"

Alfred's brow furrowed. "That might be because I'd rather spend my life trying to be happy rather than do something I don't love!"

The fight was like none they had before. It was swinging into a real argument, with...feelings.

Was it Alfred's imagination, or were Arthur's eyes watering?

"I spent the previous four years with that girl!" Arthur screamed. "I spent the whole four years trying to be someone I wasn't, working for hours at my job and then getting home and trying to be the perfect boyfriend. And then when I finally proposed she ripped my heart out. Four bloody years..."

Alfred snapped his mouth shut and stared at Arthur. He hadn't really meant that...had he?

But Arthur was already out of the room.

No one was sure how points the other had.

**I'm messed up.**

**I love crying Arthur. It's so damn cute. Fucking adorable.**

**Anyways, this happened. Hope you enjoyed it ;)**

**Yeah, Alfred was a little bit of a man-whore (or so Arthur assumes) back in the day. **

**Thanks to all the people who reviewed and alerted! You guys rock!**

**Sorry for any mistakes—I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	11. Tea and Popcorn

Alfred, once again, found himself up before the sun. It was just unnatural. But it was necessary.

He snuk his way over to the teapot he knew would be filled soon, and uncapped his secret weapon.

"ENERGY BOOST!"

He emptied four capsules into the pot, all the while snickering.

And hour later, Arthur ignorantly filled the pot with water and put in the tea bags (far too busy to notice the four white capsules sitting at the bottom.)

By the time the tea was done, the discreet energy boosters had long since dissolved. Arthur greedily had two cups while reading a chapter or two of "Peter and Wendy". Then he tugged on his sweater, and left the apartment without further ado.

Alfred smirked from the couch.

Two hours later, Arthur couldn't sit still. He was in a meeting, and he couldn't understand why it was so _bloody hot. _His boss was saying something, and Eliza was giving him odd looks. He was still in a competition with her. Oh, right. The meeting. What was his boss saying? Something about a new story? Or a column?

"Yes..." Arthur whispered, fanning himself with his folders. "Yes!" He exclaimed. "Let's do this thing!"

His boss fell silent at his strange outburst, all of the coworkers staring at him oddly.

"Now that..." His boss said, pointing a finger at Arthur, "Is exactly the kind of energy we need!"

Arthur laughed, fanning himself more furiously. "Right-o! Yes! LET'S DO THIS!"

His boss clapped delightedly. "You go, Arthur!"

Arthur didn't question his energy until after lunch. He had worked right through his lunch hour. He was sweating right through his white shirt (his sweater long since forgotten.) He had spent the previous hour running throughout the office doing random chores that usually only an intern would be delighted to do. "What's going on?" He asked one of the secretaries. "That..."

He threw down the papers he had been handing her. She jumped.

"That son of a bitch!" Arthur screamed, realizing Alfred's plot.

**Herehaveapagebreak**

That night, (after Alfred apologized between Arthur's insults) Alfred suggested they watch a movie in an attempt to 'better the relationship' because "The Roma dude said we had to work on it if we want the money, dude!"

So, after much arguing, both were pleasantly surprised to find they had an equal interest in Doctor Who. Alfred sat on his beloved couch, watching the previews with a blank expression. Arthur carried over some popcorn and sat as far away as possible from the American lad.

He noted with distaste that Alfred was scratching his...Florida.

The show started, though, provided Arthur a distraction. Until, that is, Alfred decided to reach over and grab some popcorn.

"Gee," Arthur said sarcastically. "Thank you for that. I know the box said movie theater butter but you guessed it! The topping I wanted was Alfred's sweaty jockstrap flavor."

Alfred, still staring at the TV, grabbed the bowl from Arthur's hand and dumped it in his boxers.

Arthur watched in horror as Alfred reached n and ate a handful.

"Just givin' you what you wanted, baby." Alfred said, cocking an eyebrow in the Englishman's direction.

Arthur shuddered.

**I'll most likely be updating again today. Thanks everyone for reading!**

**-Mallory**


	12. In which Arthur buys marijuana

When Alfred got home from a late jog with Matthew, (yes, surprisingly, Alfred works out. Not that Arthur would believe him.) he found it strange that there wee voices coming from the other side of the apartment door. At first, Alfred thought he had gotten lucky, and caught Arthur cheating on him (soon all this would be over!) but he still had to ignore a sinking feeling in his chest at the thought.

Then, he realized that there were not two voices, but three. All of them were familiar. "Oh no," Alfred whispered as he flung open the door.

And there, as he feared, were his parents.

"Alfie!" Arthur smiled, standing up from the bar table he and Alfred's parents were having dinner at. "Welcome home!"

Alfred just stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open as Arthur pecked him on the cheek.

Alfred's father stood up. "Listen son," he said, striding over towards the pair, "I know you're still mad about the whole job thing, but you get _married _and you don't tell us?" Alfred's father looked very disappointed. "And if you were worried it was because Arthur here is male, you shouldn't be! You know we support you."

Alfred thought back to the day he told his parents he was bisexual. Oh god, may such embarrassment never happen again.

"Um, Artie?" Alfred asked, still staring numbly at his father. "Can I talk to you? Outside?"

Arthur giggled, and took Alfred's hand, beginning to lead them out the door. "He probably just wants to give me a big smooch! We haven't seen each other all day!" Arthur called to Alfred's parents—who giggled and waved the two off.

Once the door closed, Arthur's smiled turned into a smirk. "How weird is it going to be," He told Alfred, (trying to hold back a maniacal laugh) "when _your _parents are character witnesses for _me _in court?"

Alfred cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. "Then...I guess you haven't told them the whole story yet, have you?"

Arthur suddenly stopped celebrating, looking at Alfred. Why did the boy look so...terrified? "No, I was waiting for you to do that." Arthur told him.

"Well," Alfred said, his voice cracking and his eyes looking everywhere but Arthur "what would it take...to get you to just keep this as our little secret for a while?"

The Englishman couldn't believe it. Alfred actually cared about his reputation in concern of his family. He...wanted their respect. He loved them. Arthur felt a little twinge of pity looking at the boy's face. He was terrified and lost.

Arthur thought back to his own family. Not only would they throw both of them out, ("you fuckin' fags!") but they also would have tried to take any money Arthur won.

"I want the bathroom door back," Arthur declared, crossing his arms.

"Done."

Arthur smiled thinly (not that Alfred saw) and took Alfred's hand, leading him back into the apartment. "Well, Mr. Jones!" Arthur cried happily, "I heard you were the very one to teach Alfred everything he knows!"

Mr. Jones smiled tightly and laughed a little as he said: "Well I certainly tried! It would be a miracle if Alfred ever actually finished something he was building!"

"Well," Arthur said, rolling his eyes, "Maybe you should tell him _not _to finish it and maybe he will."

Alfred's parents exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. "That's our Alfie!" Mrs. Jones called.

Alfred glared bitterly at the bar table, mimicking his parents laugh. "Real funny."

"Well, actually," Arthur said, glancing at his husband, "Alfred made this bar table we're sitting at!"

Mr. Jones immediately ducked his head under the table to look at the craftsmanship. He sighed. "Dovetail's off on the corner."

Alfred pressed his lips together and looked out the window.

Arthur pitied the boy. He...he did work hard. It seemed like if Alfred didn't work, he was lazy, and if he did, he did it wrong. "Well," Arthur started, "_I _think it's great."

He pretended not to see the surprised yet still happy look in Alfred's eyes.

"Arthur!" Alfred's mother suddenly exclaimed. "I have a fantastic idea! Why don't you two come to Uncle Frank's birthday party soon in the park? You can meet the whole family!"

"That sounds great, Mrs. Jones! We'll be there."

**Spongebobtransistion**

The next day while Arthur was at work, Matthew and Alfred worked to get the bathroom door back in. "You're letting him get into your head, Al!" Matthew chastised. "You can't let a guy get into your head! That's why I prefer not even to talk to my dates."

"He went after my family!" Alfred bemoaned.

Matthew shook his head as he positioned the door. "Think, you idiot. What's something you can do to get revenge?"

But Alfred didn't want revenge. Sure, he was mad at Arthur for playing dirty but..."

Matthew walked to the other side of the door, in the bathroom. He reached up to steady himself on the frame, but accidentally knocked something off. Matthew dropped down to pick it up, but immediately froze. "Oh. My. God." He said. "I found it."

Alfred looked around the door. Matthew was on his knees, an evil genius look on his usually innocent face. "His downfall."

Matthew held the engagement ring out to Alfred.

Shit.

**Ohshitthatwasintense**

Alfred was in a bar. It wasn't even a good bar, like he was used to. He liked the pubs (as did Arthur) because they were informal, homey, and usually had a good game on.

But this bar screamed rich stuck-up business man. Everything was some shade of either black or white,

and everything seemed square.

Then, Alfred saw her.

She was hunched over a laptop, furiously typing, he glasses slipping off her nose. Alfred walked up to her.

"I'll have a whiskey. On the rocks." She told him, not bothering to look up from her laptop, handing him an empty glass.

Alfred looked at the glass with distaste, but took it from the (rude) girl and setting it on a nearby table. Then he closed her laptop.

She stared at him with such fury and disgust that or a moment Alfred swore he was looking at Arthur.

"Hi," Alfred smiled thinly. "You're Elizabeth, right? I'm Alfred. A friend of Arthur's."

Elizabeth's face cleared, becoming blank and detached. "Oh? Arthur?"

"Yeah," Alfred chuckled. "I figured I'd give ya this." He held up the engagement ring. "He threw it away!" Alfred cried. "I mean, I figured it should go to somebody so why not you?"

Elizabeth looked at the ring, hesitating for a moment. Then she grasped it firmly and tugged it out of Alfred's grip. "Well, thanks," she said, turning back to open her laptop.

Alfred wanted to die. That's not what was supposed to happen! He turned and began to walk away in defeat when-

"How is he doing, by the way?" Elizabeth asked. Alfred spun around with a smile. "I suppose he's gained a little weight with all the emotional eating, yeah?" Elizabeth suggested.

"What, Arthur?" Alfred asked. "Oh man, he's on fire! He's doing great!"

"Really?"

"Oh you have no idea! I'm telling you. He's not going to be on the open market for long. It's a feeding frenzy out there!"

"A feeding frenzy?"

"Yeah. Arthur and I are going to my Uncle's birthday tomorrow in Wayde Park. Don't know if you know of it. But yeah! We're getting him a bag of weed! Arthur's idea!"

Alfred watched in amusement as Elizabeth's expression changed into something of regret and amazement.

"Well, man, I gotta go. Been nice talking to ya."

"Yeah..." Elizabeth murmured. "Thanks for the ring."

Alfred was already leaving. He waved, not bothering to turn around. "Yeah, yeah."

**BAM!**

**HOW WAS THAT FOR A CHAPTER?**

**Lot's of stuff happened, guys! Hope you were paying attention! This is where we get into the meat of the story. From here on out I'm gonna have so much fun.**

**Elizabeth is of course fem!England. Nothing will really be happening with her. (But she will come in later to wreak havoc.)**

**Oh! I'm so excited for the next chapter~**

**Sorry for any mistakes. I'm American.**

**-Mallory**


	13. Peter Must Pee

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and there was even a cool breeze to sweep off the heat of the day and rustle the trees. The air smelled of sunshine and rainbows and kittens and-

Arthur wanted to puke.

He held a small brown bag with a thin green card peeking out the top that was—of course—from Alfred as well as Arthur.

Because Arthur just _had _to agree to come to Alfred's stupid family's party...bollocks.

"Arthur, Darling!" A feminine voice exclaimed, a slight northern accent on her tongue.

"Mrs. Jones!" Arthur said, throwing his arms out to meet the woman's, and putting on a (rather convincing) fake smile.

"Oh please, Dear. How many times must I tell you? Call me Amelia."

Arthur chuckled nervously and nodded. _Bloody Americans. _He thought. _With their bloody friendliness and their stupid smiling._

"Alfred is over there with the kids, he said you would be late. Oh, is that a present come righ-"

But Arthur wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring in the direction Mrs. Jones had indicated only moments before. There, Alfred was smiling. It was an amazing smile. It was genuine, not teasing, but a true smile of happiness. He watched as Alfred picked up a small blonde boy and threw him in the air. Both of them were wearing matching baseball caps, and the little boy had a glove.

"He's always been good with kids."

Arthur snapped back into reality, turning to face Alfred's mom (who was smiling knowingly.) "He coaches the little league, did you know that?"

Arthur shook his head, that no, he didn't know that.

Mrs. Jones just chuckled and tugged Arthur away gently. "Care to meet the others? Or should we just stare at Alfie all day?"

Arthur blushed up to his ears and followed along behind Amelia as quick as possible. That woman was evil.

The rest of Alfred's family was just like all the ones before. Happy, friendly, and all around nice. After just a few "hello's" and a handful of stolen smiles, the Jones family had completely accepted Arthur.

It wasn't until the food was served that Alfred came over, the little boy clinging to his hand. "Hey, Artie!" Alfred said, his worried eyes not matching his bright smile. "This is Peter."

Arthur looked down at the blonde clutching at Alfred's hand. He had the Jones' trademark blue eyes, but (as strange as it was) his eyebrows looked a lot like-

"Who are you? Are you Uncle Alfred's wife?"

Arthur spluttered. "Wife?"

Alfred could barely contain his laughter. "Yes, yes he is, Peter."

"He looks funny!"

Arthur's eyebrows dipped down in confusion and (though he'd never admit it) hurt.

"C'mon, Peter. Be nice. 'Sides. Arthur looks fine to me." With that, Alfred swooped down and pecked Arthur on the lips.

They had kissed plenty of times before. Arthur feared how many times they had in Vegas. Then there was when Alfred's parents came over.

But they had never done it because they truly wanted to. It was a short, sweet, little thing that really shouldn't have meant anything at all—merely a greeting—but to them...it was their first kiss.

Alfred coughed and sat down. It was as if he hadn't thought about kissing Arthur before he did it—but that it was simply instinct.

"Whatever," Peter said, shrugging, "Can you pass the watermelon?"

Later in the day, after they had all loosened their belts and played a few more rounds of baseball, Peter, Alfred, and Arthur went out for a short walk in the park. They hadn't planned it, exactly. It just happened. At the time, Arthur had been entertaining Peter with Pirate stories when the young boy suddenly announced that he needed to use the bathroom. This prompted Arthur to search for Alfred because he himself had no idea where anything was in "this bloody hellhole of a park."

And soon their short walk turned into an even shorter run as Peter announced his dire need of relief.

Arthur stood outside the bathroom, waiting for Peter and Alfred to get out, as the line was rather long.

"Arthur?" A voice called.

Arthur turned to find the _last _person he ever expected to see—Elizabeth.

"Eliza?"

"Wow, imagine meeting you here!" Elizabeth exclaimed, almost over-doing it. Perhaps she was uncomfortable seeing her ex. "You look...you look great, Arthur."

Arthur nodded. Why was she talking to him? "I suppose."

"Wow...this...this is great. Um...Do you want to maybe go out sometime and-"

Arthur shook his head quickly. "No! No. I'm sorry. But...I'm busy, yes? I have work...and right now there's this party and-"

Elizabeth's eyes seemed to spark. "You really are doing great..."

_What's that supposed to mean? _Arthur wanted to scream. _You expected me to be a sniveling mess?_

"Well...um...it's been nice taking to you. Weird...bumping into you like that."

"Yes, I rather agree."

Elizabeth turned briskly and almost fled the scene. Arthur didn't feel a pang of longing...not one spot of regret. Except maybe buying that ring.

He did wonder where that had gone to...

"Arite~!" A hand slipped into his own. It felt nice, warm...natural. Even though it was still wet (at least Alfred washed his hands.)

Peter took Alfred's other hand and the group made it back to the party that was sure to be ending soon.

That night, for the first time, Arthur didn't mind heading back to Alfred's apartment.

He laid in his (Alfred's) bed, the covers seemingly softer than usual. "When I was younger," He told Alfred on the couch just across the room, "I used to love boats. I would go anywhere as long as you could boat there. But my favorite place to go was the docks, and I would just sit there and watch the sun set or rise as the boats bobbed in the water..."

Alfred smiled, and closed his eyes, snuggling deeper into the couch.

**I know Peter is usually Arthur's brother but I made him Alfred's nephew because...well, I needed a nephew and he ft the criteria.**

**Mrs. Jones is named Amelia after fem!America of course. **

**There was more fluff in this~ How I love fluff. Expect more! Only a few more chapters to go.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	14. Dick Banger

Alfred was sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand, and Matthew beside him. "Yeah," he said, "He wanted me to come to some work thing with him. I was like. Pffft. No."

Matthew chuckled. "Oh? Is that what you said?"

"Yeah. I was like: No!"

Matthew's chuckle quickly turned into yelling. "You idiot! He invited you to a thing for his job—the most important thing in the world to him, and you didn't go? Idiot!"

"Wha- Mattie?"

Matthew had grabbed a piece of paper out of a nearby notebook and was now furiously scribbling on the paper. "You go to the party thing. You make sure everyone loves you. Then, when you have them all eating out of the palm of your hand, you spring this on him."

Matthew held aloft a note that had a few words scribbled on it.

_I _ hereby relinquish all of the money to Alfred F. Jones won in the Hetalia Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. _

_X__

"I mean, it's not pretty." Matthew said, tearing off some of the excess paper on the edge. "But we could y'know...laminate it..."

Alfred clutched the paper in his hand.

_Oh, shit._

**Don'tmindmejustapagebreak**

Arthur nervously picked at his tie. The fact that Alfred refused to come shouldn't have surprised him. But...it did. He thought—for some odd reason—they were getting along. Sure, they still fought, and they weren't exactly friendly but...

Oh, Arthur was screwed.

He was going to be fired. His boss had told him to bring his husband (after Elizabeta leaked that _private _information. How did she even know-?) Now he was completely and utterly screwed.

"-and she screams: holy crap! A talking muffin."

Arthur's head whipped towards the sound of the voice, which was quickly followed by laughter. There, across the many tables that were arranged on the fine patio, was Alfred, laughing with a group of people. Alfred was standing at the table dressed in a clean white shirt and dress pants. His hair was smoothed elegantly. Arthur hated to admit it...but he looked great. He walked over.

"Ah!" Alfred said when he saw him. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my wonderful husband, Arthur."

The people at the table nodded and murmured various greetings. Arthur smiled hesitantly.

"Arthur, this is the founder of the company, Feliciano Vargas, then over there is the two Co-CEO's, Antonio and Romano, and then this is the Head of Treasury, Ludwig."

Arthur spluttered. Alfred had just waltzed right into the party and made himself at home with all the higher ups. Of course. Who wouldn't?

"Here, let's sit, Artie." Alfred said, pulling out a chair for the Englishman. Just when the two got comfortable, a voice came up behind Alfred.

"You're in my seat."

Arthur craned his neck around to see his boss, staring down at Alfred. The American had a blank expression on his face. "Alfred, this is my boss, Richard Banger."

Alfred laughed. "Dick Banger?" He said. "Your name is Dick Banger? You, sir, have provided us with jokes for the whole evening!"

The table was silent.

Then Richard laughed. "That's rich coming from the gay guy! Oh, don't worry about my seat, I'll just sit in Elizabeta's. Wooh! Arthur, you should have brought this guy over here sooner!"

Arthur chuckled nervously as the table eased back into it's comfortable setting. "Alfred," he whispered into his husband's ear, "I don't know what changed your mind. And I don't have to. But...thank you. You're a hero."

Secretly, Alfred felt like crying.

As the day went on, more and more people fell in love with Alfred and all his charms. Arthur couldn't help but be impressed. The boy was comfortable around everyone, voicing his opinions and making people laugh with the ease of a well-known comedian. Then, night fell. And the party really started.

Alfred stood in a expansive ballroom, feeling somewhat uncomfortable for the first time that whole day. He had forced a tie around his neck (though it hung loosely.) Soft music twinkle from somewhere on the right by the dance floor, though no one was dancing yet. Alfred was simply standing at the bar, talking to the tired looking bar-man who kept repeating "My name isn't Hercules. It's Heracles."

Alfred looked away from the man, and back to the party. Walking toward him was Arthur. For a moment, time slowed down.

Arthur wasn't dressed any differently than before. His hair was the same, messy blonde mop on his head. But suddenly his eyes were the only thing Alfred ever wanted to look at again. At that moment, Alfred realized how truly in love he was.

The note Matthew had given him weighed heavily in his pocket. "Hello, Al," Arthur said, nodding to the American.

Alfred nodded back and opened his mouth to say something, but a voice cut him off. "Hey! If it isn't Alfred Faggot Jones!"

Alfred turned to see Arthur's smiling boss. He smiled. "Hey there Dick."

The man stooped down to read Alfred's name tag. "Arthur's Bitch," he said out loud.

Arthur smirked and ripped the name tag off of Alfred's chest, and walked over to Elizabeta—who was standing not to far away. He patted her on the back, saying "Hey, Eliza. How are you? You should try the champagne. It's to die for."

When he returned to Alfred and Richard, the name tag was left on Eliza's back, proudly showing on her green dress.

"Oh, that was a good one!" Richard laughed. "You should have shown me this side of you earlier, Arthur! I would have promoted you ages ago."

Arthur smiled incredulously.

"Oh man, did you ever see what this guy can do with a knife and a bottle of champagne?"

At Richard's blank look, Alfred murmured how he "had to see this" and got the needed items from Heracles.

After futile protesting, Arthur held the knife to the bottle and POP! The champagne came bubbling out, which Alfred used to fill three cups. Richard was laughing.

Later on that night, after much jokes were told and food consumed, Richard got up on stage to make a speech. "Now, we have this trophy here for the most outstanding person in attendance. I think you all know who this trophy is going to."

The crowd giggled.

"That's right! Alfred, you fag, get up here!"

Alfred laughed, a bit shocked.

"Go!" Arthur told him, smiling, and prodding him forwards.

As much as Alfred hated to leave that smile behind, he did as he was told, and went up on stage.

_Now is the time! _A voice that sounded like a demonic Matthew screamed in Alfred's head. _Make Artur sign it! Reel him in!_

Alfred coughed in front of the microphone. He stared out into a crowd of now familiar faces, but he could only see one. Arthur, and he was smiling beautifully.

"Now, I wouldn't have gotten this trophy if it wasn't for Arthur," Alfred started. "He's amazing, really, he is. But...I know it sounds weird, but we didn't actually know each other too long before we go married."

Arthur's smiled crashed and burned. His eyes sparked into fear, he looked absolutely terrified and cornered. _Finish him! _The Matthew voice screamed.

"But...what can I say? When you know, you know." Alfred chuckled nervously, as Arthur's expression changed slowly. "But well, we were so busy running off to the honeymoon suite, we never really got the chance to have our first dance."

Arthur was now looking at Alfred with some sort of amused disbelief. Alfred smiled, and hopped off the stage, extending his hand. Arthur took it.

Someone on the stage said "L-ladies and Gentleman, for the first time, Alfred and Arthur Jones!"

Arthur didn't even mind that they used Alfred's last name.

Some sweet music echoed throughout the room. Alfred clutched Arthur in his arms and they began twirling, side-stepping and dipping in unison. Arthur was a fantastic dancer.

"You are bloody unbelievable," Arthur whispered.

"I know," Alfred whispered back.

Some people in the crowd had picked up their glasses and were now tapping their spoons and knives against them lightly, making a wonderful symptomless melody. "Do you hear that?" Arthur chuckled nervously. "They're tinking."

"Yeah," Alfred said breathlessly, "they are."

"That means they want us to kiss..."

Alfred didn't need any more reason. He tilted Arthur's chin up and captured his lips with his own. It was amazing. They had kissed in Vegas, but that had been a mindless, lustful kiss. This was something far opposite.

It was sweet, and balanced. Arthur leaned further on Alfred as they turned, and somewhere in the distance Arthur could have sworn he heard Elizabeta squeal.

**COCKBLOCKHERE**

It had to have been around two in the morning, but the blondes didn't care. They walked back to the room slowly, passing the small fountain in front of the hotel. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Alfred was saying. They had been playing the question game for a while now.

"I suppose...A lighthouse."

"A lighthouse?"

"Yes," Arthur sighed. "I used to sail a lot when I was younger. I loved working on the docks. But this one time, I was so stressed about work and bills and people, that I just had to get away. So I drove down to the nearest lighthouse and I just spent the whole day up there, watching the boats. I felt so free. It...took my mind off of everything."

"Is that the picture you have?" Alfred asked. "I think it's the one you hung by the bed. The little painting of the lighthouse."

Arthur smiled warmly. "Yes," he said. "That's the one."

**Hello guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while but I was traveling. To where you ask? Why, New Jersey of course! I'll be here all summer. Problem is, I work here. So I don't know if I'll be able to update so much. We only have a few more chapters left, anyways.**

**Thanks to everyone for all the support and comments! You've been amazing. I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American.**

**-Mallory**


	15. Rings

Life, well...life was good.

Alfred and Arthur had fallen into the schedule of living together, and frankly, it was amazing. At six o' clock Arthur would arise and take a shower. Somewhere during that shower Alfred would wake up and prepare breakfast (One spoonful of sugar in Arthur's tea). Arthur would emerge, eat, thank Alfred, think about kissing him (he never did) and then leave for work.

Alfred would then take his own shower, dress, and run down to his dad's warehouse. "Hey Dad!" He would say. "Mind if I use some supplies? I can pay for them."

To this, his father would nod. Alfred would then bend down and work on his new creation.

"Really," his father would whisper to one of the employees. "I've never seen the boy work so hard. He's actually...finishing something."

But one day, the beautiful routine life was interrupted. Arthur was walking home from work, a new prompt under one arm and a cup of tea in his free hand. His cell phone was wedged between his shoulder and his ear and he was screaming at Francis to "Shut the bloody hell up! I'm heading to the courtroom right now. It's going to be over soon..."

It would have continued like that were it not for a pair of blonde pigtails. "Arthur!"

Arthur stopped. "Elizabeth?" somewhere on the other end of the phone, Francis shut up.

"Um, Francis, I'm going to have to call you back," Arthur told the phone, snapping it shut quickly and shoving it into his pockets.

"Arthur," Elizabeth began, looking very serious, "I...I really love you."

Arthur looked around nervously. Where was an escape?

Elizabeth pulled out a ring that looked _very familiar. _"Arthur, I just wanted to let you know, you _are _good enough for me. I want you back."

"_Good enough?" _Arthur repeated. Then he glanced down at the ring. "_Where did you get this?"_

The ring was none other than the original engagement ring that Arthur had used to propose to Elizabeth (when she turned him down.)

The only other person that knew of it's existence was...

Alfred.

Arthur ripped the ring from Elizabeth's grip and stormed away. He was an idiot.

Just when he thought...

No! He never thought anything. Stupid. Stupid...

**Ibetyouallhatemerightnow**

Alfred sat in the courtroom, Matthew by his side. "You're an idiot," Matthew told him. "Falling in freaking _love _with him. Stupid. You could have gotten all of the money, too."

"I told you, Mattie. We're splitting the money fair and square."

Matthew sighed. "What about the divorce?"

"I...I don't know, Mattie."

Then, the doors slammed open. Arthur marched down the isle, not even bothering to look at Alfred. He immediately turned to his attorney and whispered something in her ear.

"Order! Let the court come to order!" Judge Germania shouted. "Now, as you all know, these two were sentenced to attend wedding counselings. Let's hear the man before we start either of their testimonies."

To this, a brown haired man smiled and walked up to the witness chair. "Bonjourno!" He called to the audience.

"These two...these two are really...messed up." Mr. Roma began. "They both have deep, unsettling, mental problems. _Deeply unsettling."_

Arthur and Alfred blushed and looked at opposite walls.

Roma laughed. "In fact, this one time, Alfred tried to convince me that Arthur was beating him! The funniest thing I've ever seen. He came in with a black eye all nervous. He sat down as far away from Arthur as possible, and when I asked him what happened to his face, he said 'I fell. On a doorknob.'"

Roma laughed again. "Then after a while he started crying, and he says: 'I was supposed to line up the hand towels in the bathroom just so, but I didn't and I'm sorry!' Remember that this whole time, Arthur is just sitting there smiling. And Alfred continues 'one time, I forgot to turn the volume down on the TV, and Arthur said, "You turn that volume down or I'll put YOU DOWN!"' funniest thing!"

Here, Roma paused. "Then Arthur just calmly pulls out his phone, and shows me a video. The video was of Alfred, what I take to be his brother, and this big bloke who I believe was named Ivan. Ivan was pummeling Alfred to the ground, all the while Alfred's brother (what was his name?) was screaming "It has to look real!". These two...ah, man."

Mr. Roma wiped a tear from his eye. "But really, after all these efforts, no one can convince me that these two aren't perfect for each other."

Judge Germania was trying hard to keep a straight face. "Thank you, Roma. Is that all?"

Roma nodded and stepped down.

"Alright," Germania announced. "Would the defendant like to say anything?"

"Um..." Matthew stood up. "My bro- _client _says that he'll split the money. With Arthur." Matthew looked like he was choking on the words.

"See! Look at that, you've learned to share! Arthur?"

To this, Arthur's lawyer stood up. "Your Honor, my client has informed me that he does not want _any _of the money. He just wants a divorce."

Alfred nearly fell off of his chair. He looked at Arthur, but the blonde didn't spare him a glance.

"Mr. Kirkland, is this true?" The judge asked.

"Yes, sir. All I want is a divorce."

Germania seemed to ponder this. Then, he shrugged, and banged his gavel. "Very well. All of the money goes to Alfred, and a divorce is granted."

Arthur nodded, whispered something to his lawyer, and stood up.

He walked right over to Alfred. The poor American boy was just sitting in his chair, stunned, watching Arthur.

The Englishman dropped something on the desk in front of Alfred, and left without a word.

"YEAH BITCHES!" Matthew screamed. "I AM THE LAW! BOOM! I WON A CASE!"

Alfred picked up the tiny, shining, engagement ring.

**I AM EVIL.**

**EVILLLLLLLLLLL.**

**MWAHAHAHAHA.**

**Don't worry! This is not the last chapter! The next one will be :D**

**I hope this one wasn't too confusing. GERMANIA AND ROMAN EMPIRE FTW.**

**Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


	16. The End

Alfred was at home. Home, of course, meaning his parent's house. They were all sitting at dinner, the mood extremely tense. Matthew wasn't even looking up. He was invisible—as he tended to be in the presence of the rest of the Jones'. But this time, it wasn't because Alfred was talking. In fact, it was because he _wasn't _talking.

Amelia Jones was picking at her vegetables. Alfred was mimicking her. Mr. Jones, though, was staring right at his son while he fervidly cut at his steak.

"I saw that finished table you were working on the other day."

Alfred sighed at put down his fork, meeting his father's gaze. "Alright, what's wrong with it?"

Mr. Jones shrugged. "Nothing. I thought it was good."

Alfred perked up. His dad just...complimented him!

"However, I think you really fucked up with that Arthur kid."

Aaaaand there's the criticism. Alfred deflated. His dad continued. "He was a good guy! It was the first serious relationship I've _ever _seen you in! I now know that it was all just some huge Vegas hoax but I've never seen you work so hard on something! Alfred, I know my son. And you were in love."

Alfred sighed again. "Yeah, well, like you said. I fucked it up."

"Alfred, I knew you were stupid but I didn't think you were retarded!" (Matthew snickered.) "Get out of my house and don't come back until Arthur is with you!"

Alfred stood up. It wasn't the first time his dad had done something like this. It was almost nostalgic. Alfred allowed himself a small smile before he clapped Matthew on the back. "You going back to Canada soon?"

Matthew nodded. "Stay in touch, bro."

Alfred smiled and moved on to his mother, bending down to peck her on the cheek. "Well, mom, I'll see you at Christmas."

His mother nodded and puled her son down in a hug. "Y'know..." She whispered in his ear, "he loved you too."

Alfred gaped.

**YAYFORALFRED'SMOM!**

"Okay, where is he?" Alfred demanded, slamming his hands on the bar table.

Francis sighed. This is what he got for working as a bartender. "I don't know, mon cher. As much as I would like to use my superior knowledge to bribe you into many a sexual act, I simply do not know."

Alfred let out an aggravated growl. "C'mon, man! You have to know _something!"_

Francis held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Je ne ce pas! If you were sad and you wanted to get away from the world, where would you go?"

Then, it clicked. "That's it!" Alfred shouted. "Oh, thanks man! I gotta go!"

Francis watched the blonde tumble out the door. "Oh, l'amour..."

**WELL,ALFRED_IS_THEHERO.**

Arthur took a deep breath. For some reason, he just didn't feel the same way he did the last time he came here. No matter how many times he heard a seagull, or saw a sailboat, or watched the sunset, Alfred was still there.

It was driving him insane. He knew he shouldn't forgive him or..._love _him, but for god's sake he was the only person he'd ever felt so connected to. Like he shouldn't try to impress him or be a gentleman or...

Life sucked.

"Arthur!" The door behind him burst open, to reveal a somewhat sweaty Alfred. He was panting. Heavily.

Arthur just gawked at him as he bent down and rested his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. "Whoo!" He wheezed. "Do you know how many lighthouses are in this area?"

Arthur shook his head numbly. His mouth was still hanging open.

"Six." Alfred informed him. "There are six lighthouses in this area, and I assure you, they are all very, very tall."

Arthur couldn't believe it, but the corners of his mouth tilted upwards just so.

Alfred smiled in return and moved to stand right in front of Arthur. "Artie," he began, "I fucked up. You are...I love you. And I miss you. And I'm really sorry for everything. I'm really, really sorry for everything and I almost want it to have never happened, but I can't say that because if didn't I wouldn't have ever fallen for you."

Arthur smiled. "You...you fool."

Alfred fell to one knee and took Arthur's hand. "Well, Artie, what I'm trying to say, is—if you can forgive me, will you marry me? Again?"

Arthur laughed. "Yes." He pulled Alfred up off of the floor to hug him. "Yes you stupid git."

Alfred bent down and his lips smacked into Arthur's.

Perfect.

***One month previously***

Arthur was in a dress that actually flattered him somehow, and he was leaning on Alfred—who had a tie around his forehead. They both wore expressions of extreme concentration. But they were both very, very drunk.

"Do you take this man to be your husband?" The 'priest' asked.

"Huh?" Arthur asked. "Oh! I mean, yeah! Okay!"

The priest turned to Alfred. "And you?"

"Um...okay."

"Great! You may now kiss!"

The both of them seemed to like this idea, and they fell on each other, lips interlocking in a messy, lustfully drunken kiss. In the background, if you squinted, you could make out Matthew and Francis doing something of the same thing.

Matthew laughed. "Get off! Stop it, Francis! We have to go!" Alfred picked up Matthew and dragged him out of the room, screaming: "I'm married!"

Arthur was talking to someone named 'flying mint bunny' in the corner of the room. Francis got off the chair he was laying in and followed after the twins, but not before kissing one of the other groups' bridesmaids.

"ARTIE!" Alfred screamed. "C'MON!"

"JEEZ I'M COMING! CHILL OUT!"

**So yeah. That's how it all went down. They also had sex. But I'm too much of a blushing schoolgirl to write that part, so it's up to your imaginations. **

**If you haven't yet watched the movie—YOU MUST! It's amazing. **

**Thanks everyone for reading! You guys have been awesome to me, and I'm glad I got to finish this! (And if you're interested, I'm starting a cardverse called "Greensleeves")**

**Thanks again, and sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!**

**-Mallory**


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